it's a switch flipped
by stiltinski
Summary: Five times that Stiles didn't want things noticed and they were, and the one time he did. (One-shot.)


First Teen Wolf fic, pretty pointless. It's kinda heavy then its like sunshine and puppies. The titles taken from Lorde's Bravado. There was no 3b here.

I don't own Teen Wolf.

* * *

_**one**_.

People tended to forget the Scott and Stiles were the same height.

It wasn't a big deal—never was and never would be, but for some reason this always irritated Stiles. After Scott got bit, and all the shit went down and Scott came out strong and a hero people forgot about Stiles.

(Later he would say to Scott_, 'I don't mind, really'_.)

(But he did.)

…

_**two**_**.**

When Stiles was getting changed once in the boys locker room, Danny had looked over and given Stiles a funny look.

"When did you get muscles?" He'd asked as if they were new. Scott and Isaac had looked over as well and to hide his discomfort he'd shrugged on his shirt, before commenting.

"Um, pretty sure I've always had them or otherwise I'd be dead?"

Danny had only shaken his head at that response and turned away again.

(Isaac had turned around and directed a non-question at him later when they were at Scott's. _'No but seriously, when _did_ you get muscles?_'

He'd smiled enigmatically back and said _'In-between playing Halo, and lacrosse.' _He hadn't been asked again.)

(He would never tell them that his paranoia had made him sign up for self-defence classes—to refresh what his father had taught him—and that was why he had muscles.)

…

_**three**_**.**

It was months later when his appearance had been brought into a conversation. Jackson had decided to come back to Beacon Hills as a layover before he jetted off to Starling City—something about a long lost brother.

(Ethan was growly and jealous. It was hilarious.)

He was significantly less douche-y than the last time he was in Beacon Hills, instead being more…human.

"You grew out your hair, Stilinski."

"Wow, how astute of an observation. Did'ya meet Sherlock when you were there?" Scott had chuckled before Lydia had shot them both a glare.

"Why?" Jackson had only asked. Stiles didn't bother telling him since he already knew—he had been there at the barbers when he was five, and Jackson was six, and he'd wanted his head shaved to match his mothers.

"_I'm gon' be just like you, mom. And when you get better, I'll grow it back."_

Jackson had watched him control his emotions with a smug smirk.

(After that whole debacle was over, and Jackson sent packing to Starling City courtesy of Derek, Scott had cornered him to check if he was okay. _'I'm fine, man. I grew it out 'cause I'm healing, just like she made me promise.' _He didn't tell Scott that when he'd gotten home that night he'd hugged his dad, thinking that he'd almost put him through that again, numerous times.)

(He didn't sleep all night.)

…

_**four**_.

When something he didn't want pointed out, was pointed out again, it just had to happen when they were training. Where all the pack, plus Derek and Chris Argent were there.

Chris had faced him in stance, gesturing for Stiles to copy. When they got past the basics of the movements, and Chris had Stiles attack afterwards he'd called him out on his perfect stances and techniques.

"You don't learn that in one lesson, Stiles." And when that had left his lips he'd been the spotlight.

"Maybe, I'm just that special." The look Stiles received in turn was enough to make him remedy his previous statement.

"Or maybe, when I was raised by the Sheriff—an ex-army man—and a bodyguard turned librarian I was taught self-defence." Stiles had seen the eyebrow raises and smiled sardonically. When they'd all turned back to what they were doing Derek caught his gaze and gave him a look that knew he'd caught what he did.

(Stiles would lie if he were ever asked about what made his heart palpitate that day.)

(But he wasn't asked so it didn't matter.)

…

_**five**_**.**

That kind of thing stopped happening on a regular basis anymore, so he relaxed and forgot about it. He even got that tattoo his mom used to have, his mother's family crest, above his heart, when he went to college.

"Now, my little man, I got this tattoo after your Babushka passed away. She told me that if I ever got married, I needed a reminder of my old family. So I got the Stilinski crest tattooed over my heart. Turns out I wouldn't ever forget my family since your dad took my name instead. Although that's because John Smith was too boring for us."

He had been told the story many times as he grew up, so he decided that he would get the tattoo too. Of course after he'd gotten that one he'd gotten more. His arms were covered in symbols and pictures each of them relating back to something he'd thought about once. Many of them were old symbols and runes for protection, good will, and all that kind of thing. He'd been scoffed at by his college friends, and teased by his then girlfriend saying they all meant stuff like soup really.

But in the middle of his Crest lay his own name, the one he'd never given to anyone. His real first, middle and last names. When Stiles had returned from Beacon Hills almost a year after he left for college (his courses didn't leave a lot of family time), he'd been attacked with a hug and an 'I should never have let you go to college,' from his father.

He had seen the tears in his father's eyes at the crest, and then again when he saw both his own and his mother's name tattooed down the side of his family rune. He had been told a gruff and joking 'you'll regret those,' but mostly his father was just happy to see him for a while.

After the Stilinski reunion, Stiles had received an order from Lydia to get round to hers with swimming gear. He had sighed in resignation grabbing what was needed, and then drove the upgraded Roscoe round to her house where most of the pack would likely be.

His long sleeved shirt had saved him for about an hour, before they had all decided to swim. The resignation had returned, but no one noticed his tattoos for approximately 0.5 seconds.

"Whoa, Stiles!" Scott had called gaping from the far side of Lydia's pool. "How the hell did you get all those when you fainted watching me get mine?"

Stiles' sigh had been loud and exaggerated. "I was like eighteen then! I got over it!"

Lydia had come up close and given him an appraising look before backing away, and then it was Scott who, of course, had obtusely mentioned his name in the middle of the crest.

"Zygmunt Grezegorz Genim Stilinski? What the heck is that?" He'd asked pronouncing almost every one of them wrong. Admittedly it had made Stiles smile.

"It's my name Scott, you didn't even say half it right."

His best friend had tried to apologise but Stiles had just laughed him off; '_You see why I go by Stiles now_.'

(He didn't tell him that they had all knew him by 'Greg' when he was in kindergarten and first grade and that his mother had called him Zed.)

(He didn't tell them why he changed it to Stiles. That he'd changed it to move on from his mother. That he didn't actually move on until years later after werewolves and kanimas and magic.)

…

**+ one**

"Stiles, come on! You have to let us see it!" Scott begged down the phone to him. He smirked as he held the object Scott was speaking of.

After college Stiles was left at a turning point. He had gained self-confidence and more, and had moved past all his issues and even wrote his own novel. Which was being published, and was what this current discussion was about.

"You can wait like everyone else and read it then." He paused for a second and practically heard Scott pout down the phone.

"But Stiles! Allison's going to pop soon! She won't have time to wait once we've got a kid to run around after!"

"Using your wife as an excuse? Poor show Scott."

"Please?" Stiles closed his eyes and sighed, smiling slightly.

"No."

"Aww, man."

"Besides," He added just to annoy Scott. "It's not like you get a special mention or anything. That goes to Lydia—who will forever be the light of my life."

"_Stiles_."

"I'll see you Monday, Scott. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens then."

"Okay, but one more question."

"What?" Stiles breathed exasperated.

"Are you using your real name?"

"Oh my god—goodbye, Scott." He hung up his phone and plopped back down in his office chair.

"Scott?" Stiles' co-worker Margery questioned moving from the doorway.

"Yeah, he was bugging me for an early version of my book." Margery laughed and Stiles smiled at her. "He's worse than some of my students sometimes."

"Well, he did grow up with you." A new voice entered the mix. He looked up to the door and smiled widely.

"Lydia!" Stiles cried, moving to hug her. "What are you doing here?"

"Using my special powers to get you home early." She smiled at him returning the hug. "Hi Margery."

"Hi, Lydia." Margery said. "I've got a lecture so could you move from the door?" She laughed jokingly.

"Of course." Lydia said, and they split and moved over.

"Lydia, keep this one and his unruly hair out of trouble will you?"

"Of course," She repeated smiling this time. "God knows he needs all the help he can get at that."

"Hey!" Stiles cried indignant. If this were a few years ago he would have been uncomfortable in this situation, but now all he felt was the warmth of laughter bubbling in his stomach.

(He preferred things this way.)

(Especially if it meant that all his issues were resolved, and he was the best he'd ever been.)

(Which, he is. And it was perfect.)

_fin_.


End file.
